Insider
by Yogurt-Time
Summary: What if Hilbert had to trade places with a Team Plasma grunt?...
1. A Switch in Time

**I think it's time for some more non-M rated fics, to cleanse my soul. Try not to take this story too seriously, okay?**

* * *

He didn't quite know what he was getting himself into, but orders were orders, and disobedience was a seldom-used term in this man's vocabulary. Still, he supposed, this task seemed simple enough not to mess up… hopefully.

"Keeping Pokemon imprisoned like that… I'll teach you!" he shouted, raising his fists as though he was poised to punch anything that stood before him.

The man wondered if the half-heartedness in his threat was made too obvious, because the elderly recipient of his hostile words did not seem to react in the slightest before calmly replying.

"Imprisoned? I believe you are mistaken. This is Unova's Pokemon Day Care, where trainers entrust their Pokemon for us to watch over. When they are able to receive their Pokemon again, we return them, safe and sound."

The man in uniform lowered his fists, replacing them with only a quizzical gaze as he responded, "Huh. When you put it that way, I-"

"**Stop right there!"**

The sudden shout had come from behind of the uniform-wearing man, and he turned his head to identify the culprit. To his surprise, the loud mouth that called out to him belonged to but a mere boy wearing a cap and a blue jacket, a beginning trainer if he were to guess at first glance; ever since he had started traveling the region, he had seen – not to mention, battled – many a trainer, all of varying levels of experience… but all able to triumph against him, no matter how hard he tried. He wondered if this encounter would end any differently.

The boy in the cap continued, pointing a finger at the man. "I don't know what you're doing, but I won't let you get away with it, you… you bad Team Plasma guy!"

_Yup, definitely a newbie trainer_, the Plasma grunt thought to himself, smiling. He brought out the Poke Ball he had been given, and threw it to the ground, summoning the Pokemon inside; a small, bipedal mammal bearing a long, thin tail and red eyes each ringed with a band of gold, constantly watching, surveying. His Patrat may not have been the strongest Pokemon around, but perhaps their luck was due to turn around by now.

The boy repeated the gesture, calling upon his own Pokemon to the fray. The grunt watched as the young trainer's Poke Ball burst open to reveal a green, serpentine Pokemon, posing with a graceful air as it landed upon its pair of tiny feet. Like its trainer, the Plasma man surmised that this Snivy was no veteran in the fields of battle, and he could already envision the onslaught that his Patrat would inflict upon the grass snake.

However, the battle's outcome in reality quickly developed into one completely different from his fantasy. At the boy's command, the small Snivy twirled rapidly in place, surrounding itself in a funnel of harsh wind, thick with leaves that spun around in the airstream. The grunt's Patrat had completely failed to dodge the Leaf Tornado, getting caught in the cyclone that was launched towards it, left helpless in the air as it was buffeted by the sharp leaves. Once the miniature windstorm had died down, the man was distraught to see that his Patrat had been defeated, knocked out cold without even having the opportunity to attack. He couldn't even look at the fainted Pokemon as he returned it to its Poke Ball, while the victorious trainer did the same. He couldn't believe what had just happened; the Plasma grunt was no stranger to losing, but to have lost so easily to a rookie trainer… that was the final straw.

"I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" he yelled, holding his hooded head to the sky. "I'M SO SICK OF BEING A NOBODY GRUNT THAT CAN'T EVEN BEAT A BEGINNER!" The boy in the blue jacket could only stare cautiously at this sight; he wanted to stop this man from causing harm, but he certainly wasn't trying to make him lose his mind. He was too astounded to retreat while the Plasma grunt advanced toward him with heavy steps, rage flaring in his gray eyes.

"You think it's funny that I lost, do you?!" he questioned the trainer, his voice loud and starting to grow hoarse. "You wanna know what it's like to never succeed at anything you do?! Let me show you, you stupid kid!" Dragging the boy by his jacket sleeve, the grunt forcefully escorted the boy behind a thick hedge, where nobody would be able to see what he would do next. The struggle that ensued had taken the batter part of a half-hour, but nothing, not even the boy's attempted resistance, would stop this Plasma grunt… or rather, soon to be ex-Plasma grunt.

"Ha ha ha ha… Now you will be the forever-failure of a Plasma goon, and I'll be… what's your name, kid?"

"H-H-Hilbert…" The boy replied to the man's question, squirming as his arms and waist were restrained, wrapped by surprisingly sturdy arms.

"Hilbert?! What a dopey name. You should thank me for this; nobody will ever call you by that name again!" Releasing his hold, the grunt pushed Hilbert back on the other side of the hedge. The young trainer was not too badly hurt from their brief scuffle, but he was not entirely happy about what the man had done to him…

He had forced a trade of clothing between them (Hilbert was most fortunately spared from having to don the other man's underwear), leaving the younger boy in a Team Plasma uniform that did not fit too comfortably and carried an odor that suggested its owner did not often have the time to do their laundry. Almost directly after he had been forced out, Hilbert could hear a mob of footsteps marching towards him.

"_Another straggler, eh? Stop standing around, we got work to do in Nacrene City!"_

Before the boy could make sense of what was going on now, he was hastily whisked away by a group of people who were all clad in outfits that matched his own. Once the band of other Team Plasma members had left the route, the ex-grunt emerged from the large hedge, wearing Hilbert's baseball cap, blue jacket and long black pants, enjoying how they managed to properly fit, more or less; for once, the man's small size had actually proved useful for something, and now that he was free of his past, loyal to nobody but himself, he was free to do whatever he felt like. He could frolic in a field of flowers, or throw rocks at stuff, or anything in between, and nobody would berate him for goofing off. What could go wrong for him now?

"There you are, Hilbert."

The ex-grunt's mind was diverted was he noticed the raven-haired, glasses-wearing boy coming his way, his face appearing aloof as he calmly paced the road of Route 3. Pushing the drooping frames up the bridge of his nose, he greeted the stranger as though they had been long-time friends.

"You know, you shouldn't run off without someone to back you up. You might run into danger, like getting ambushed by Team Plasma."


	2. With Friends Like These

**All right, time for another chapter. In this one, the Plasma grunt chooses a name for himself to go by... though it may not be the most inspired name. The characters may act a little dense every now and then, but what can you expect?**

* * *

The former Plasma grunt looked strangely at the newcomer, unused to how this complete stranger was acting so affably – by comparison, anyway – towards him. Throughout the duration of his employ under Team Plasma, an organization dedicated to separating humans from Pokemon, he had been oftentimes met with fear or aggression by trainers who were not so easily convinced to part with their cherished Pokemon partners. Their vitriol, he realized, was directed not at him as a person, but at the very team he was a part of; now that he had cast off the uniform of blue, white and black, he had regained his identity as an individual.

"Hello… friend," he greeted the boy in the glasses, accompanying the welcome with a vehement wave of the hand. As though he was above such displays of sociability, the raven-haired boy elected not to wave back and instead gave a quick "Hmm," in acknowledgement, tucking his hands away in the pockets of his jeans, turning his head to look around. The grunt didn't know what else to say to this friendly stranger, and the silence that ensued had shortly turned things awkward for both of them.

"Heeeeey, Cheren!"

As if on cue, the cheery voice of a young woman called out, the loudness harpooning through the quiet as the girl quickly waddled into view, coming to an eventual halt once she had caught up with the boy in the glasses; Cheren was his name, the grunt inferred. "Oh geez…" Cheren sighed wearily as the girl, blond-headed and sporting a large green hat, caught her breath, unused to the physical exertion she had just demonstrated. "Bianca," the raven-haired boy continued, "I thought you said you were going to look for Pokemon in the Dreamyard."

"And I found just the one I was looking for, isn't that the most fantast-errific thing ever?" Bianca squealed gleefully, as she began to dig within the space of her bag. "Here, I'll show you!"  
In just a few minutes, she had found the Poke Ball she was looking for, opening the capsule to reveal a pearly-pink, egg-shaped Pokemon, its body decorated in flower patterns. The Pokemon squealed with a high-pitched "Muuuuh!" when Bianca squeezed it in an overly enthusiastic hug.

"Munna, Munna, Munna! Come meet my new friends!" she told the Pokemon after releasing her almost-crushing grip. "This is my friend Cheren," Bianca said as she tilted Munna's face towards the glasses-clad boy, who simply yawned. "And this," she stated, turning Munna's attention to the grunt, who could only look on in bewilderment since the moment Bianca had arrived, "this is my friend Hilbert… hmm?"

Looking at the man in the borrowed clothes, Bianca scratched her head as if a puzzle had materialized before her. She gasped to herself before turning to her friend and asking, "Cheren… does something seem different about Hilbert to you?"

Cheren rolled his half-closed eyes in exasperation. "I was just about to get to that before you interrupted me. What have I told you about interrup-"

"Yeah, yeah, don't interrupt people because it's rude, I know that, you silly-billy." Bianca waved her hands as if she wanted to fan away the tension that Cheren was practically radiating. "Anywho, I think I know what's different about Hilby… he went and got that haircut he needed!"

Walking off, in the direction of a nearby cave, Cheren off-handedly evaluated Bianca's misguided conclusion, "Yeah, okay. Well, since it looks like Team Plasma isn't around, I'll catch up with you two later." Before long, he was out of their sight, and neither Bianca nor the grunt felt like joining him to do whatever he was doing at Wellspring Cave.

"Well… I 'd better go too, I have, uh, things to do," the grunt muttered; he had feared that Cheren would have been harder to shake off his tail than this, and now he was just one head shy from being all alone, "Seeya round, chum."  
Before he could leave, Bianca simply giggled and grabbed the grunt by his wrist, tugging at the sleeve of the blue jacket. "Are you going to Nacrene City too? Why don't I tag along with you? It'll be fun!"

He immediately yanked his arm free of Bianca's weak grip and decided to head for Striaton City, in the opposite direction of her next destination. "Oh Hilby, you joker, that's not the right way! Here, I'll show you the right way to Nacrene City, hee hee."

%%%

Inhaling the bold aroma of coffee that filled the building, Hilbert sat, somewhat bored, at a seat in the Café Warehouse, tapping his gloved fingers against the hard wood of the table. Surrounded by three Team Plasma grunts sitting at the same table, the brown-haired boy hoped he could soon find the man who forced him into this position. But for now, he listened as the stocky-looking leader of their four-man party gave the team their instructions.

"So ya sees, the buzz is dat there's somethin' in the museum what Team Plasma really needs, y'know? And since the dame what runs the museum also happens ta be the Gym Leader, we's gotta wait 'til she's up and distracted by a trainer dat wants ta battles her… You!" he pointed his beefy finger towards Hilbert, who looked up in surprise, "you's is gonna keep an eye out for any trainers dat goes inta dat museum… say, I's never seen your face before, kid. My name's Grunt, and dese is my pals Grunt, and Grunt," he drawled while indicating his two Plasma comrades. "What's yer name, kiddo?"

Hilbert replied nervously, "Uh… Grunt?" figuring that he would have to play along and follow their lead… at least until he had a chance to be alone.

"Good ta have ya's on board, Grunt!" Hilbert twitched as he felt the hard thump of a hand to his back. "Just stick with me, and dis Team Plasma shtick is gonna be a smooth ride for ya. First thing you's should know about Team Plasma is dat our leader-"

The waitress of the café suddenly wedged her head between Hilbert and the big grunt, holding a tray bearing some bottles. "Here you are, sir, four Moomoo Milks."

Handing a wrinkled wad of cash to the girl, the grunt took the milk bottles while replying, "Thanks, babe." Distracted by thoughts of the ex-grunt running about in his outfit, Hilbert wasn't particularly thirsty, yet he still felt a slight touch of annoyance as the leader of the group greedily drank the entirety of the Moomoo Milk, belching loudly as four empty bottles were all that remained on the table.

Hilbert was soon sent out to keep a lookout at the museum, waiting for a trainer to enter the Gym that was nested within the museum itself. Waiting by the entrance for what seemed like hours, the sudden presence of a tall, cap-wearing man had roused his attention. He had seen that person before; the green hair, the cube hanging from the chain of his trousers… dead giveaways.

"Hello, member of Team Plasma," the green-haired man spoke, his words fast, yet precise. "It is a lovely day to wait outside this museum, yes?"

Hilbert was completely dumbfounded by the obliviousness of this familiar face. It had been only yesterday that the trainer had encountered this enigmatic man – N, he called himself, for some reason – at Accumula Town, where his greeting to the boy had been far more ceremonious, and considerably more poignant than the one he had just given to Hilbert now. Did this N not see that the boy he met that day and the boy he was talking to now were one and the same?

"N! N… it's Hilbert! Don't you recognize me? Hilbert?!" he shouted before the green-haired man, loud enough to turn a few heads of passersby among the town.

N simply closed his eyes, bowing his head deep in thought. "Yes, Hilbert… the boy I met at Accumula Town, a face I will not soon forget. When he battled me, I heard the voice of Snivy, his partner Pokemon… I wish to hear the voice of his Pokemon yet again."

"R-really? Great!" Hilbert affirmed, taking N's words as an invitation to battle with him once more. "Go, Snivy… talk to N for me!"

When the green snake Pokemon emerged from the ball in a luminous flash, N's steely-hued eyes widened in surprise as he spoke. "That Snivy… Its voice is all too familiar. But if it is in your possession, then that can only mean one thing."

Hilbert smiled. "Exactly."

Before he could elaborate any further, N simply walked away, wiping the smile off of the boy's face. "W-wait, where are you going, N?" he asked as he tried to catch up, with Snivy following.

N didn't look back as he kept walking on, replying, "For that trainer to so quickly lose his Pokemon to Team Plasma… Perhaps he was not the one I was searching for. My dream of a perfect world still remains distant…"

Hilbert wanted to give chase to the green-haired man, the only hope he had to escape this cruel and unusual nightmare, but he could wander no further from the town's boundaries, lest he jeopardize the task that had been forcibly assigned unto him; if he deserted Team Plasma now, they would surely not rest until they got their revenge on him. The museum's entrance was barely within eyeshot, and he could barely see the tall speck of an unidentifiable person entering the building.

As fast as he could, he went back inside the Café Warehouse to meet with the grunts at the table. Without need for words, the three grunts took his arrival as the cue to make their move, and promptly left. Wearily, Hilbert sat down at the table they had occupied, and the waitress from before came up to him, notepad and pencil in hand. "What'll it be, hon?"

The boy in the Plasma uniform just shook his head.

"Now, now, just because you're from Team Plasma doesn't mean we won't let you order… so long as your money's good." The waitress smiled, and gave Hilbert a knowing wink, which he did not really bother to think too much about.

"Fine, fine," he replied. Fortunately for himself, he had kept an emergency supply of money in the one area he still had on his person before his encounter with the ex-grunt – a place that was better left unmentioned to the waitress. "One Soda Pop, please."

%%%

"Boy, don't be rude, and tell me yo' name, so we can battle already, mm-hmm!"

The man in the cap and jacket tried to think. As far as he could remember, he had always been called "Grunt" among both his Team Plasma peers and the sages, the higher-ups in the fancy robes and hats. Oddly, he didn't mind too much that he, like all of the others in his rank, was given such a simple, basic name. In fact, he thought that the name suited him far better than the actual name he had, given to him by his late mother.

"The name's Grunt… better make that Grunter," he added; a touch of individuality would not be amiss, he thought to himself.

"Grunt, Grunter, ain't gon' matter when I'm done with you, boy!" the gym leader of Nacrene City wagged her finger brazenly, before she drew a Poke Ball from the pocket of her apron. "Y'all had best prepare for this!"

With newfound confidence boiling within himself, Grunter vigorously tossed his own ball, sending out his own Pokemon. "Go, Patrat! Show 'em what we've learned!"


	3. Sagely Advice

**Sorry, this chapter was a bit more difficult to write, as there wasn't as much humorous opportunities. But you'll probably notice I altered the personalities of certain characters... it's purely for the sake of writing more interesting dialogue.**

* * *

"Watchog, use Retaliate, and school that boy!"

Grunter carefully watched the Pokémon owned by Lenora, the strong-willed Gym Leader of Nacrene City. A specialist in the Normal type, she had initially began the battle with her Herdier, a canid and surprisingly threatening Pokémon that proved to be quite the challenge for the man's Patrat. He had to wonder, though, if Lenora caught on to the fact that he was, for lack of a better term, inexperienced in Pokémon battling; either that, or Herdier was just that weak, to the point of allowing the small Patrat to claim victory over the beast, a feat nothing short of impressive from the ex-Plasma grunt's perspective.

Whatever the case, Lenora's Watchog was not nearly as complacent of an opponent as its predecessor, as Grunter would soon see. Without hesitation, the tall, red-eyed Pokémon began its rampage at the Gym Leader's command, charging towards its unevolved form at an astonishing speed. The man in the cap told Patrat to defend against the attack that was arriving too fast to dodge.

The smaller rodent was unable to withstand the attack however; it had been blasted off of its feet by a tackle most relentless, an attack carrying unmitigated force fueled by the Watchog's desire to avenge its fallen ally. Grunter stared with widened eyes as his Patrat had been felled with just a single attack from the Gym Leader's Pokémon; it appeared that the Gym Leader had planned that strategy from the beginning, allowing Herdier to be defeated so easily had served to make her star player even more powerful.

"You'd best give up, son, ain't no way yo' sorry ass can handle this!" Lenora taunted as wagged her finger. To his surprise however, Grunter was not at all upset about Patrat's defeat. As he returned Patrat to its Poké Ball, he smiled, thinking to himself; while that blond girl Bianca was rather absentminded and managed to get on his nerves more than a few times, he had to be grateful for showing him how fun Pokémon battling could really be… not to mention, how satisfying it felt to be on the winning side for once or twice, or at least 8 times… Grunter was quite surprised by Bianca's persistence, to say the least.

There was one more thing he could thank her for, in any case. Reaching into a pocket of the ash-black pants, he produced another Poké Ball, which opened to reveal his second and most recent addition to his team.

"Mrowrr…" the newly-owned Pokémon cried out, lazily stretching its nimble body coated in purple fur. Grunter gave his command before Lenora had a chance to attack, "Purrloin, use Scratch!"

In response, Purrloin simply yawned, and lied down, furling itself into a more relaxed position. Lenora scoffed when she saw that Grunter's Pokémon hadn't even attacked at all, "You crazy, boy? Y'all can't just use any old Pokémon if it dun' have no respect for you! Now Watchog, give that Purrloin a Crunch!"

The Purrloin seemed almost unaware of the large rodent Pokémon advancing towards it, not at all perturbed by its intensely crimson gaze. Even as its opponent seemed completely uninterested in fighting back, Watchog would not even think to fight any less seriously; the brown Pokémon lunged its head towards the Purrloin with its mouth agape, baring large, pointed fangs. Grunter still showed no fear for his Pokémon, which both intrigued and amused Lenora. To her, this battle was as good as won.

"Mrowwwrr!" the Purrloin roared, its eyes suddenly adopting a fierce expression as it swiped steely claws with unbelievable speed at the Watchog's ankles, interrupting its Crunch attack and making the rodent Pokémon stagger as it lost balance. Now that the opposing Pokémon was vulnerable, Grunter gave his next instruction with a satisfied grin, "Now, Purrloin, Fury Swipes!"

Like an uncoiled spring, Purrloin leapt forth to close in on its opponent, wildly swinging its clawed paws several times in succession. Still weakened by the previous sneak attack, Watchog was unable to defend itself from the onslaught, receiving the full brunt of the feline's ferocious attack. Whether or not Watchog would remain fit to battle after the relentless attack, Lenora could not bear to see her Pokémon partner in such an extreme form of distress, and she recalled the battered Pokémon to its ball, calming Grunter's Purrloin down, before she approached the trainer with hands at her hips to express her indignation.

"Wha's wrong witcha, boy?! You learn to Pokémon battle in prison or what? I oughta smack your skinny little butt upside the head for pulling a stunt like that… but a win's still a win, and me, I ain't got no choice but to give you your Badge. Y'all had best be grateful for it!"

Grunter smiled as he received the Basic Badge, a small rectangular token of his first victory at an official Pokémon League Gym – and the first milestone paved for the road he would now walk, as of that day. His session of admiring the shiny trinket was promptly interrupted when a tall, unassuming man cautiously entered the room, clearing his throat to speak.

"Um… Lenora, dear… There's, uh, there's kind of a pr-problem… situation, you see… outside, the mus-museum…"

The nervous stammering of the Gym Leader's husband was all she needed to ascertain that something had gone awry while her back was turned. With a heavy "Awwww, hell naw!" she stormed out of the room.

%%%

Hilbert continued to wait in the Café Warehouse, gradually sipping the ice-cold Soda Pop he had paid for; unbeknownst to him, the trio of Plasma grunts he had met up with earlier had already infiltrated and fled the museum, pilfered artifact in tow. With Lenora, director of the Nacrene Museum, giving chase, a swift getaway was the foremost priority for the team of grunts, and they had no choice but to head for Pinwheel Forest, in hopes that the almost-labyrinthine foliage would afford them a flawless escape.

The brown-haired boy had already finished his drink when an old man entered the café, curiously clothed in robes that bore the Team Plasma sigil, the same one he saw on his uniform. As he would expect, the elder approached the table he was sitting at, and began to speak.

"Hrmph, so there was someone hiding in here after all… Let's hurry up and get this over with, shall we?"

Hilbert didn't quite understand. "Say again?" he asked, dipping his hand under the uniform's hood to scratch his head. The man in the auburn-colored robes simply sighed, and clasped his bony hand around Hilbert's forearm, dragging the boy out of the building as he declared, "Look, I don't really care, but orders are orders, and if we don't do as the boss says, we won't get anything to eat tonight. So let's just get to work."

Rood, one of the Seven Sages of Team Plasma, directed Hilbert to the small group of Plasma members that were assembled in an empty warehouse of the city. There, he gave the grunts their instructions, maintaining his unusually indifferent composure as he recited the objective. After repeating himself at the request of a few particularly slow learners, he bade the grunts a half-hearted farewell as they departed; they were to cut through Pinwheel Forest's shortcut route, and cross the gigantic Skyarrow Bridge to reach Castelia City. With a sad face, Hilbert marched with his new crowd; he was sinking deeper and deeper into this pit of misunderstanding, and he needed to find a way out before it was too late.

Unfortunately for the band of Plasma grunts, Pinwheel Forest's shortcut was under the surveillance of a lanky man with curly hair, flanked by Bug-type Pokemon under his ownership. One of those Pokemon had alerted the man to the presence of Team Plasma, and he turned to reprimand the group for their misdeeds.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Team Plasma. Haven't you been a naughty lot, hmm? In fact, I have half a mind to wrap you all up in bug silk and put you on display as my latest art piece! But if you actually behaved, then maybe-"

"**PLASMAAAAAA-!"** a loud cry erupted from one of the group, and in an instant, a large blanket of fog-like smoke engulfed the area, obscuring the vision of Hilbert, the Bug Pokemon and their trainer, and the Plasma grunts. The smokescreen they had unleashed was only momentary, though, and the entire party, Hilbert included, made haste to reach the Skyarrow Bridge before the haze cleared.

"Plasma? More like Asthma, if you ask me," the curly-haired man coughed as the smoke began to disperse, disappointed that the villainous team had eluded his grasp. Too bad Lenora had taken the long path to search for those skull-nappers, he thought, wishing that she had been the one to be subjected to a lung-assailing smokescreen; he doubted that Lenora enjoyed singing as much as he did, and inhaling foreign gases would do him no favors for his voice.

%%%

After a long, exhausting trek along the enormous, winding bridge, Hilbert and the Plasma gang had finally made it to the piers of Castelia City, a bustling metropolis of a city that buzzed with the clamoring of several dozens of people, engrossed in their own business and paying little attention to the people that bore the Plasma uniforms.

"Alright, chumps. Half of us will wait here and the other half, I want you guys to take the boat and go to the island over there, and get that thing we came for!" A tall, serious-looking grunt instructed his peers, pointing to a tower in the distance, separated by miles of the deep-blue ocean. As he had feared, Hilbert was placed in the half tasked with the more difficult of the jobs; rather impatiently, he was pushed into the unattended boat with four others, the most vehicle-savvy (apparently) of the five behind the controls, ready to start the motor.

%%%

Grunter was by no means lacking in stamina, but even he could not keep up with Lenora as she tore her way through the dense vegetation of the forest, assisted by her Watchog, fully recovered from its previous battle with the man's Purrloin.

With the Gym Leader's occasional assistance, he had been able to defeat any Plasma member who sought to impede their progress; surprisingly, he felt no reservations towards thwarting the schemes of his former team… but he felt that he needed to distance himself from that past, a past where he had been only a failure and nothing more.

Besides, he hadn't really made any significant friends during his time there.

Grunt after grunt had their Pokemon easily trounced, yet none relinquished the item they had taken from the museum. The search had seemed all but hopeless until…

"**BOO!"**

Both Lenora and Grunter jumped at the sudden exclamation, and then turned to see one of the Team Plasma sages, this one clad in green robes that seemed to help him blend in with the verdant surroundings.

"Ho ho ho… It is I, Gorm of the Seven Sages… and I've still got it! I gave you a bit of a scare, didn't I?"

Unamused, Lenora gritted her teeth, while Grunter shrugged; he recalled that though the sages were very similar in motives and appearance, each carried a personality that wildly differed between the seven, and here was Gorm, who seemed to find enjoyment in harmless yet irksome pranks.

"I suppose you're looking for that Dragon Skull we snatched. Here, take it," he said, carelessly tossing a round, horned Pokemon skull, "It's worthless to us. What good is a dead dragon head, anyway?"

As Gorm and the remaining Plasma grunts retreated in defeat, the curly-haired man came over to see how the ex-grunt and the Gym Leader were faring, as he asked, "Sooo, how did it go?"

Lenora presented the skull to the man and answered, "We done got that skull back, no thanks to you, Burgh! Why don't you crawl back into your hive and do your honey paintings or whatever it is you do in your Gym?"

Burgh giggled, unthreatened by the museum director's words. "Ooh, aren't you a little on edge today. What's the matter, Lenora, you have to give away another Badge again? I know I'd be pretty steamed if some trainer beat me so easily…"


	4. Creative Liberty

**Wow, what took me so long to update this? This is an all-Hilbert chapter, be warned.**

* * *

Hilbert stared in awe at the magnificent tower that stood before him, the monument that made Liberty Garden such a popular tourist attraction of the Unova region. Within that tower resided something – or perhaps someone – that Team Plasma was very eager to obtain for themselves. He had to confess, though, that he too was curious to know what was locked away within the building. Maybe it was a powerful Pokemon? Or possibly a vault of gold and treasure? For all he knew, it could have been a room's worth of unsold boxes of cookies. Whatever the case, the group of grunts marched towards the tower's entrance, as the visitors of the island clamored in panic.

"Get lost, Team Plasma! You're not welcome here!"

A particularly plucky young boy, sporting a rather fetching pair of shorts and a cap worn backwards, had stepped in front of the troupe, his Poke Ball at the ready, clenched in his young hand. His challenge was promptly met with the arise of a particularly aggressive member of the Plasma grunt troupe; wild-eyed, shaggy-haired and scar-faced, and these were only his features not hidden by the team uniform.

He sprayed flecks of spittle as he snarled in a booming voice, "YOU WANNA GO, KID?! COME GET SOME!"

Laughing madly, he flung his Poke Ball to the ground with force, adding to its already even coating of dents and scratches. The worn capsule burst open, summoning a tall, tan Pokemon, striped with dark brown. The bipedal creature lashed its long, spine-lined tail, as it opened its large maw to emit a harrowing roar, "**Krrraaawwh!**"

The little boy gasped in fear, and his stance lowered; he had made the grave mistake of acting brave without the wherewithal to back it up, and his choices were to either stand down like a coward, or try to maintain his composure and hope for the best.

"I-I'm not scared!" he stuttered, "I'll show… I'll show you!"

The boy threw his own Poke Ball down, but it simply landed on the ground, not summoning any Pokemon, or even opening. The hostile Plasma grunt and his Pokemon scoffed at the kid's foolishness; the young runt had obviously bluffed in a feeble attempt to scare Team Plasma off of the island, in hopes that thwarting the team would bring him a handsome amount of prestige among his peers. Kicking the empty Poke Ball off the ground and launching it out of sight, the grunt pointed at the defenseless boy and barked out, "AHAHAHA, STUPID KID!" Turning his head to his vicious Pokemon, he pointed and commanded, "NOW, KROKOROK… SIC' BALLS!"

The grunt's Krokorok was eager to obey, intimidating the young boy with its wild feral gaze that it seemed to have inherited from its trainer – or perhaps it may have been the other way around. All it took was a few loud snaps of its fanged jaws to send the boy screaming, running, and finally jumping into the safety of the ocean, where he could hide from the water-phobic Ground-type… as well as hide how he had so embarrassingly wet his pants in fear.

After that display, none of the other tourists dared to interfere, and while Hilbert felt annoyed that nobody else would stand up to the bully grunt and his bully Krokorok, he could not deny that he too was a bit frightened of the brutish duo, and he knew that his Snivy would not fare well against the larger Pokemon; its size and indomitable ferocity easily compensating for its type disadvantage. With no other choice, he left those two to keep the tourists in check while he and the other grunts entered the lighthouse at the center of the island.

%%%

"Here you go, kid, a whole sack of Poke Balls!"

Hilbert didn't quite catch what he said, and asked, "Wha-" before a large, bulging object flew towards him, giving him quite a startling thump on the chest before he could grab the sack. What did he need all these Poke Balls for, he wondered? Just how many Pokemon were hiding in this dank, musty enclosure, if any? While Hilbert descended the lighthouse, making his way to the basement (presumably where his target waited) down below, the other grunts offered their services of "guard duty" which essentially amounted to a free period of card-playing, smoking and general non-productivity.

A single closed door stood at the end of the path that the boy took, the word "DANGER" emblazoned upon it in old, peeling paint. In need of backup, Hilbert brought Snivy out, and cautioned the snake Pokemon. "Careful, Snivy. There might be something dangerous in there, so back me up, okay?"

"Hmm!" Snivy nodded in confidence.

Taking hold of, and then turning, the old, dusty doorknob, Hilbert opened the door, but what he saw beyond had fallen well below his definition of danger. The modest, subdued wallpaper, the clean rug and the pillow-filled, feathery bed all made the room look more like it had been taken directly from a moderately-priced hotel than anything else, and the trainer felt almost cheated by this apparent misnomer.

Hilbert's Snivy knew that there was more than met the eye however, and stepped forward on its small feet, calling out with a loud "Hsssss!" to an unknown adversary. At the call, a small, floating Pokemon suddenly came into view; Hilbert couldn't believe his eyes.

"Viiiih!" The Pokemon that had just appeared was small yet bursting with vitality, blue globe-like eyes watchful and large red ears twitching. Since Hilbert had left his Pokedex in his old, now-stolen pockets, he had no means to identify this Pokemon or what it was capable of… but he knew that if this was what Team Plasma was looking for, it was not to be underestimated at any cost.

"Snivy, let's go!" Hilbert rallied his partner's morale, and Snivy stood poised, awaiting an opportunity to attack. The smaller Pokemon acknowledged the challenge with a squeaky "Vih!" while making a V sign with its stubby fingers, and Hilbert pulled a fresh Poke Ball from the sack in preparation. With devastating speed, the Pokemon dashed forward, and Hilbert instructed Snivy to jump aside to dodge the attack. However, Snivy was not the designated target of the attack; that honor went instead to Hilbert, or rather, the Poke Ball in his hand.

The capsule opened on its own upon contact with the Pokemon, and the boy didn't even feel the usual wobble of resistance before hearing the click that indicated successful capture. Dumbfounded by this anti-climax, Hilbert shrugged to Snivy, who had dodged its way into being buried under a mound of pillows.

%%%

When Hilbert returned to the tower's entrance, he didn't see any of the grunts nearby. Instead, he was greeted by a face he recognized, and thought he wouldn't see again.

"…Professor?"

The woman in the lab coat affirmed, "That's right! I, Professor Juniper, cannot stand idly by as people like Team Plasma use Pokemon for their own evil ends!" She held her arm out to direct Hilbert's attention to a team of police officers escorting the Plasma grunts into a police boat; the ferocious Krokorok grunt looking terribly bruised and beaten in particular. Turning back to the trainer, she continued, "Let that be a lesson to you, Hilbert."

With a puzzled look on her face, the professor paused in confusion as she took another look at the boy in the Plasma uniform; noticing his mop of chocolate-brown hair that was obscured a little by the hood of the uniform, Professor Juniper realized that her tongue had not slipped up by accident. "Wait a minute… Hilbert? What are you doing in Team Plasma?!"

Hilbert was glad that someone had finally recognized his true identity; maybe now this charade could end. "Well, it started when I battled a Team Plasma guy with a Patrat-"

"Hang on!" Professor Juniper had pressed her hand against Hilbert's mouth, muffling his words. "This gives me an idea… Hilbert, I want you to stay in disguise and keep an eye on Team Plasma, find out what they're going to do, and do whatever you can to throw a wrench in their plans! You'll be a man in the inside, a mole… like a Drilbur! Hilbert the Drilburt… that has a nice ring to it actually."

Hilbert groaned. Why was the Professor going along with this craziness? "B-but what about researching Pokemon? And getting badges?!"

But the woman simply waved her hand to dismiss his concerns. "Don't worry about all that, you have a different job now. I'm sure Cheren and Bianca will be able to handle everything without your help… well, maybe not. But yes, don't worry. Now… run, run back to your hideout or whatever."

"What?" Hilbert was at a loss for words. In response, Professor Juniper flopped over and landed on her back, pretending Hilbert had struck her with a painful blow. "Owww, my aching everything!" she feigned. "Don't try to get away while I'm completely helpless!"

With no other foreseeable choice, Hilbert ran back to the Plasma boat docked at the island's edge, and attempted to set sail for Castelia City's pier… a feat easier said than done for a boy with no experience in operating sea-based vehicles.


	5. Good Looking

**Wow, where have I been all this time? Probably working on other stories. But since last chapter was all Hilbert, this one is all Grunt. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Heeeey, Hilby! I want you to meet my new BFF!"

Grunter had almost grown bemused at how oblivious Bianca was to the fact that he was not the friend she had known from childhood. Did she perhaps need glasses to see that he looked totally different to that boy?

"It's not another Pokémon, is it?" Grunter asked, knowing how the girl in the green hat had a knack for making big deals out of small things.

"Nnnnope!" Bianca giggled. "Her name's Iris, she has big poofy hair… oh, oh, and her favorite Pokémon is, umm… well, I forgot to ask her! I'll go grab her now so she can talk to you!" In a manner as fleeting and fanciful as her train of thought, Bianca had disappeared into one of Castelia City's many alleys, leaving Grunter alone. The ex-Plasma grunt was unsure now of how to kill time; he had earlier hoped to battle Burgh, the curly-haired man he met in Pinwheel Forest, in order to obtain another Gym Badge, but he had been most unfortunately beaten to the punch by meticulous, no-nonsense Cheren, who had somehow arrived at the city even before he did. There was no telling when he would be done with the Gym.

Outside of the Pokémon Center, Grunter continued to wait. Much time had passed before Bianca had returned alongside a girl he had never seen before, a dark-haired youth who wore a modest ensemble of ivory and pink. Even more unusual to his eyes was seeing tears of sadness coming from the normally-cheerful girl. Just what had happened to her while she was gone?

"Hilbert, it's… it's awful, awful, awful!" Bianca wailed, surprising the man by throwing her arms around him. "Munna… Team Plasma… Mean ugly man…" Her voice soon deteriorated into incoherent whimpering as she buried her face into his shoulder, dampening the jacket he wore with her tears. The other girl – presumably, this was the Iris that Bianca had referred to earlier – explained the situation, "Yup, Team Plasma's here to ruin our fun! They took Bianca's Pokémon! I'd kick their big, stinky butts, but I left my Pokémon at home! Lucky for them though, cuz I have super-awesome Pokémon!"

So Team Plasma had made their way to Castelia City too… Grunter was in a bit of a predicament now; back at Pinwheel Forest, he had already gotten his fill of disrupting the team's plans, and he was in no particular mood to bother them any further. On the other hand, the way Bianca's bright and bubbly personality had been crushed so easily by that simple act of having her Munna taken away… Was this how every trainer felt when they were separated from their Pokémon like this? The ex-Team Plasma member suddenly began to feel a bit less guilty about his constant failures of the past.

Not to mention, he was not a particular fan of tear-soaked jackets.

"I guess I could help you look for them, then," he assured. The party of three then began to scour the large city, in search of the hostage Pokémon and its captors.

And so began a long and arduous search for Bianca's abducted Munna.

%%%

Castelia City was known for being the largest of Unova's major cities, and Team Plasma could have been in any one of the myriad nooks and crannies that the city encompassed.

They weren't in the art museum.

There was no sign of them at the piers.

It seemed the team were not connoisseurs of coffee or light music, as the emptiness of Café Sonata would suggest.

The group of three felt like they had looked just about everywhere that was humanly possible, and were on the verge of giving up.

But just before all hope was lost, they had arrived upon their goal… in hindsight, it had been more obvious than they had expected.

At long, long last, Grunter and friends had tracked Team Plasma down. After absconding with the Munna they had successfully liberated, the group had attempted to lie low by hiding within a hotel room on the far side of the city. That decision had proven unwise however, as the Plasma sages faced complications in checking in with the receptionist.

"Listen here, woman. Are you going to give us a room or not? We have not got all day."

"Like, seriously, would you stop being so rude, Rood?!" Pronouncing the two lattermost words exactly the same, the sage in the orange-brown robes was unamused by his accomplice's brusque behavior.

"This isn't a game, Bronius," Rood replied coldly. "I just want to do what the boss said and get a room."

Bronius giggled in an irritatingly high pitch, with the volume to match; the red-robed sage and the receptionist tried their best to ignore that. "Oh Rood, you devilish little thing, there's no time for that! We have a job to do, remember?"

"Harrumph," Rood simply grumbled at the other sage, and turned his attention back to the hotel receptionist, who retained a neutral expression. "So are we getting the key to the room, or am I just wasting my time? I'm not getting any younger."

Before the young woman could go to look for the key she wanted, the sages were hastily startled by the sudden cries belonging to a pair of panicked Plasma grunts.

"Mister Rood, sir!"

"Mister Bronius, sir!"

"Intruders! Intruders! This is bad for Team Plasma… or Plasbad for short!"

"Yeah! It's not good for Team Plasma at all… or Plasnogood for short!"

"Ugh…" Rood brought a geriatric palm to his wrinkled face.

"Ohh noo!" Bronius wailed as he slapped his hands to his cheeks.

"**SIIIILENCE!"**

The loud bellowing voice that erupted from the corner of the ground floor room belonged to a third sage, who had until that moment simply watched in silence. Unlike Rood or Bronius, however, this man appeared younger by some years, and wore robes that were far more elaborate and intricately designed than those of his peers. While intimidating, the large garments proved both unnecessarily gaudy and cumbersome; the green-haired sage encountered slight difficulty in merely turning his body around to face his underlings.

"M-Mister Ghetsis, sir!" one of the grunts blurted, "Please… please forgive us!"

Ignoring the grunt's contrition, Ghetsis simply scowled as he made his way to the entrance, his hatred for gross incompetence seething. It was there that he saw Iris, Bianca, and Grunter, whose Patrat appeared quite energetic and battle-poised. So these were the intruders that those pitiful wretches were whining about… The spinelessness of his minions was astounding.

"Worthless fools!" he proclaimed, raising one arm in a villainous gesture. "You dare to get in the way of Team Plasma and myself?! I laugh upon such foolishness... HA HA HA!"

Before Grunter could command his Patrat, Iris jumped in between him and Ghetsis, supplanting the ex-grunt as the forefront of the party, while she attempted to match the man in threatening disposition.

"Oh yeah? Well, I know you are but what am I?"

Bianca then cried out through sobs, "Munna… Where's Munna? I want Munna!"

"Munna?!" Ghetsis answered. "An insignificant wretch such as yourself fails to realize that I, Ghetsis, will crush all who oppose me! If you truly believe that putting your life at stake is worth your precious Munna, then-"

"Here, take it."

Interrupting the monologue of the maniacal sage was none other than Rood, carrying Bianca's beloved Munna. Graciously, he presented the Pokémon to the girl, which then floated towards her as she opened her arms to hold the round pink thing close, overcome with emotion.

"Oh Munna, I thought I'd never see you again! Come give your mommy a kissy-kiss! I missed you, my little Munny-wunny…"

Now that she had finally received what she had come for, Bianca promptly left the building with Munna in tow, her gleeful demeanor completely restored. Iris was next to depart, choosing to childishly stick out her tongue towards the Plasma group as a parting gesture, which only increased Ghetsis's ire.

With no further business with the team he was no longer interested in, Grunter prepared to leave as well. Once his back was turned however, he flinched in shock at a hand planted upon his shoulder.

"…Say, haven't we met before?"

When the man in the cap and jacket saw who had stopped him, his fears were confirmed. Even without his old, abandoned uniform, he had been somehow identified, and of all the other grunts that comprised Team Plasma – that was a lot of grunts, to say the least – it had to be **her.**

The female grunt chuckled flirtatiously as she carefully studied her once-colleague's face, as vague memories stirred about in her mind. She may not have immediately recognized him, but all too well did Grunter remember her. Like so many others, she was known simply as "Grunt" yet somehow, this woman in particular bore a rather infamous reputation of… "interest" in the opposite sex; one which exceeded that of just about all other female grunts. Not one for romanticism, Grunter chose not to pay heed to how she would chase after various male grunts throughout the months, often those who accompanied her in the field; only naturally, there would come a time when he would be her next target. That day, Grunter's obstinacy remained stalwart; no matter what methods of enticement the female grunt chose to employ, he was unmoved, completely uninterested in any of "that mushy-feely business."

"Um… of course not!" Grunter answered. A lie of course, but one that he would not fault himself for.

What he did not know at the time was that she in fact liked a man who would put up some resistance; to be pushed away by a stubborn man would only make her more interested, and winning their affections over, steadily but surely tearing down that wall of opposition… that was what fueled her ego most. Still, Grunter invariably failed to succumb, no matter what she did. During his time in Team Plasma, he was quick to make a point of completely avoiding the woman, giving her a wide berth… but it seemed that after all this time, she had not forgotten the man she had yet to allure.

"Hmm, I must have you confused with somebody else," the female grunt drawled. Giving the ex-grunt a suggestive gaze, she leaned her face closer to him, until he could feel her warm breath upon his chilled skin. "Let me tell you, boy… you're looking mighty fine yourself."

A bead of sweat made its way to Grunter's eyebrow, and he wondered why nobody had intervened. Apparently, watching Rood and Bronius continue to bicker amongst themselves and the receptionist proved much too interesting for Ghetsis and the second grunt; both looked on silently.

"You ever thought of joining Team Plasma, gorgeous?" The amorous woman licked her lips. "Liberating Pokémon with you could be really… exciting."

The man in the cap and jacket trembled in anxiety. His mind desperately fumbled for an idea…

"Look, an Audino!" Grunter exclaimed as pointed in an instinctively-chosen direction, and dashed off before she even had the time to verify the presence of an Audino (of which there were actually none in the area.)

The female grunt sighed as her quarry ran into the distance at a breakneck speed.

"You can run, lover-boy, but you can't hide…"


	6. Reunions

**Oh dear, more delays. Battle scenes are really not my forte, mind you.**

* * *

Grunter walked the streets of garish Nimbasa City in high spirits; he had seen neither hide nor hair of Team Plasma after the incident in Castelia City, and furthermore, he was also the proud owner of a newly-acquired Insect Badge, courtesy of Burgh – a most colorful character, in his opinion, but not one to be taken lightly in battle.

Vividly, he could remember the swift, dance-like movements displayed by the man's Leavanny, a leaf-clothed bug Pokémon with arms thin and sharp as sabers, and the final and strongest member of Burgh's team. The ex-grunt's Patrat had fought bravely against the Gym Leader's Dwebble and Whirlipede, and despite the toll those previous battles had taken on the brown rodent Pokémon, Grunter knew he had to rely on it to secure victory once more; the friendly and most affable man waiting at the Gym's entrance had earlier advised that Dark-types would be at a disadvantage to Burgh's insect Pokémon, leaving Patrat as his single option… Grunter lamented his lack of opportunities to catch more Pokémon. In any case, Patrat's resilience and determination persevered in the end, and not even Leavanny's agile reflexes could save it from a powerful Hyper Fang attack, leading to its climactic defeat.

As Grunter examined the emerald-green trinket resting in the slot of his Badge Case, he glowed with an immense pride for himself and his Pokémon; things had definitely taken a turn for the better ever since he had left Team Plasma.

Continuing to walk with his eyes focused on his badges, the ex-grunt almost fell over when he bumped into someone who was in his path. Hastily, he put the case away as the hapless bystander, a middle-aged man carrying a large, detailed map, expressed his irritation. "Hey, watch where you're going! Lousy kids… No respect for their elders at all." Grunter huffed indignantly; he had quickly grown tired of always being mistaken for a child due to his height.

"Sorry," he muttered, but the man didn't seem to care for his mere apology. As he folded the map in his hands several times, until it was small enough to keep in his pocket, Grunter turned away to walk in the opposite direction, where he saw something quickly closing in on him…

"Hilbert Hilbert Hilbert!" Bianca ran as fast as her legs could allow, as she carried Oshawott, her starter Pokémon, in her hands. For reasons Grunter did not immediately understand, the small shell-bearing Pokémon was sporting a rather extravagant ensemble; a top hat rested on its head, while a thick pair of glasses covered its eyes. Several bows adorned its body, and the pink parasol in its hand completed its wardrobe. Somehow it seemed not to mind how overdressed it seemed to look.

"You should have been there, Hilby! Osha-wosha was in the Pokémon Musical, and looked sooooo cute with all these bows while dancing and- and all the other Pokémon were dancing too, but Oshawott was the cutest ever, because the umbrella and the hat and-" The girl's speech seemed to outpace her thoughts as she chattered away, and the man in the cap simply pretended to maintain a polite interest in what she was saying.

"_**BIANCA!"**_ A loud roar of her name made the two trainers jump in shock. That booming shout had in fact come from the very same man that Grunter had just bumped into, and he approached the girl he was addressing with a stern glare.

"…D-daddy?" Bianca was hard for her to believe what she was seeing, but it was undeniable that her father had indeed traveled all the way from Nuvema to Nimbasa to track his child down, and now that he had found her, the man approached the girl in the green hat, his fists clenched tight and shaking.

"I told you no! You were forbidden to leave your home, and you disobeyed me! Me, your father! After all I've ever done, this is how you repay me, by going behind my back and running off?! You selfish, ungrateful little brat!" Bianca's father had yelled until his throat burned, and then grabbed his daughter by one ear, intending to drag her back to their house, where the further punishment he planned awaited. Accidentally dropping her Oshawott and making it fall down, Bianca cried out in pain as she was being tugged away from a most bewildered Grunter. "Hilbert… Oshawott…"

And all of a sudden, the tugging on her ear stopped.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

Bianca's father was halted in his tracks by a woman clad in yellow and black, her tall, high heel-enhanced stature and icy stare only making her look all the more imposing.

The man shouted hoarsely in response "…That's none of your business! This is strictly a family matter!"

The woman noted the man's seething temper, and way his fist was crunching the girl's ear, and she attempted to contain her own fury.

"So this is your daughter then? Grrr…" She began to grit her pearl-white teeth. "Abusive men like you disgust me."

The anger of Bianca's father was growing stronger, and as it was that nosy stranger who was responsible for it, he unhanded Bianca and pushed her to the ground, focusing entirely on a direct confrontation with the woman.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" he snarled.

Calmly, the woman in heels brought out a Poké Ball, which opened to release a large, quadruped Pokémon, black-coated with white jagged stripes and a mane that crackled with sparks of electricity.

"My name is Elesa, and I'll teach you to abuse helpless young women!"

Pointing a finger at Bianca's father, Elesa commanded her Pokémon to charge at the man, and immediately it galloped forth at a dangerous speed, its hooves slamming against the ground as it charged forth. The middle-aged man's rage was no more now, completely replaced with fear and terror as he attempted to run away from the incoming Pokémon, which continued to give chase even as the two disappeared from Elesa's view.

When Bianca lifted her head from the dusty ground, she saw before her the hand of the helpful woman, and she latched onto it with her own, allowing her to stand to her feet more easily. The girl in the green hat remained silent as she brushed the dirt off of her clothes, and Elesa could not help but worry that Bianca had been too greatly traumatized by the ordeal.

"…Are you okay?" she asked. "He's gone now, and he won't be hurting you anymore."

Wordlessly, Bianca's eyes were fixed upon Elesa, this total stranger who had intervened, and they began to water as she was overcome with emotion…

"Ohmygoshohmygosh, that was awesome how you did that with your Pokémon and wow I love your outfit, where can I get one like that, so cool-"

When Grunter saw the man who claimed to be Bianca's father being chased downtown by a Zebstrika, he had to wonder just how the surly parent had gone from imposing and ill-tempered patriarch to a meek and terrified victim, narrowly avoiding the most painful fate of being trampled flat. Carrying the still-accessorized Oshawott, the ex-grunt was eventually led by his curiosity to the two women; while Bianca was still raving on and on as her back was turned, Elesa could see who was coming their way, and surprised the younger girl as she jumped ahead to assault Grunter with a sudden slap on the face.

"Don't even think about it!" she spat; Grunter was understandably confused and very annoyed at that sudden outburst.

As Oshawott jumped out of the man's arms and returned to its original trainer, Bianca spoke up.

"Umm, Elesa… that was… that was my friend you, umm, hit there…"

With a brightened and stinging cheek, Grunter could only watch disapprovingly as the now-embarrassed woman struggled to form a proper apology.

%%%

As punishment for completely wrecking the speedboat that Team Plasma had rented – an unintended and disastrous result of trying to dock the vehicle, Hilbert was sent on a solo mission to locate any people who happened to be in the assigned area that possessed Pokémon, which as he was told were "in dire need of liberating."

The young trainer was not happy about the consequences of his escapade, but the light-hearted., almost comical manner in which Bronius of the Seven Sages had reprimanded him was far too facetious for him to feel any anger towards. What did end up upsetting him was the location to which he had been directed; sand-ridden Route 4, which led to the Desert Resort, an area that was just as sand-ridden, if not moreso. Even as the boy was gradually getting used to being clothed in the Plasma uniform that had once belonged to a grunt of short stature, he would readily admit that his attire was not the most suitable for trekking about the sandy expanses.

By the time he had trudged to the route gate leading further into the desert, Hilbert was already waist-deep in what amounted to an arid, granulated bog, with airborne particles blowing about in the strong winds from all directions, constantly threatening to assault his exposed face and eyes.

Truly, Bronius was much more vindictive than his childish behavior initially suggested, Hilbert thought to himself as he spat into the ground to rid his mouth of the grittiness it had accumulated.

The sandstorm had died down to a more tolerable degree once Hilbert was in the heart of the Desert Resort, a place that was much more "desert" than it was "resort." The relatively clearer skies had afforded him a better view of the area, but still he could only see mounds of sand, pits of sand, Pokémon that dwelled in sand… as expected of Unova's principal desert, this area was no slouch in the sand department.

However, as he continued to scan, the brown-haired boy soon saw the tower in the distance, and he concluded that any trainers looking for Pokémon here must have sheltered themselves within; nobody in their right mind would stand out in the open to be buffeted by gusts of sand, no? Accepting this reasoning as sound, Hilbert made his way as fast as he could, given his difficulty in adapting to the harsh environment, to the building.

To Hilbert's disappointment, neither trainer nor Pokémon was to be seen within the tower of Relic Castle. After his thorough and fruitless search, he prepared to turn back and declare to the superiors that this mission had been a complete failure, but he was stopped before he could reach the entrance.

"I finally found you!" declared the young boy, a stranger that Hilbert had never met before... or had he? That cap he was wearing and the pair of shorts around those legs of his… they brought to Hilbert's mind recent memories of that daring youngster on Liberty Island who had, to ward off Team Plasma's invasion, assumed a front of intimidating bravado – which was all a lie in the end – yet, despite the close resemblance, this could not be the same person from that time.

Hilbert's mind was brought back on track when the younger boy brought out his Poké Ball, summoning a gray bipedal Pokémon, grinning mischievously as it effortlessly brandished a large block of wood in its short, stubby arms.

Childishly, the youngster taunted Hilbert as his Pokémon started to show off, twirling the lumber about its fingertips. "Hmph, I wasted my time following you and now you won't even fight me? You're a loser, even by Team Plasma's standards! I can't believe-"

"That's enough!" After that particularly relentless jeer, Hilbert was sorely tempted to slap some respect into his opponent, were it not for the older boy's maturity. Instead, he drew his own Poké Ball, throwing the capsule forth to release his Snivy.

"Hss…?" Snivy made a sound of confusion when it appeared.

Like its trainer, the green snake Pokémon seemed to face difficulty in adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings, as its small legs kept sinking into the sandy ground.

Even as his opponent was struggling, the boy in the cap wasted no time. "Pound 'em, Timburr!"  
His Pokémon responded by turning its head to face its trainer, as though it had been suggested to do something ridiculous. "…Come on!" he urged. After further delay, the Timburr turned back to face Hilbert's Snivy, and began to charge towards the snake Pokémon, wildly swinging the log in its arms.

Before Timburr could get too close though, its careless flailing had become too much, and as the Pokémon lost its balance and stumbled over, the slab of lumber slipped from its grasp, flying towards its intended target. Between the bed of sand hindering Snivy's movement and the wooden projectile closing in fast, a moment of judgment was all Hilbert was given, and it was up to him to make that moment count.

Instinctively, he called out, "Snivy, Leaf Tornado!"

Hilbert's Pokémon acted quickly, throwing clumps of sand about by spinning to create a small vortex of wind and leaves. The strong current pushed back the Timburr's log in mid-flight, returning it to its sender at a higher speed. Having failed to evade the incoming attack, the young boy's Timburr suddenly took the blow on its forehead at full force, knocking the muscle-bound Pokémon out quite decisively.

"…" The Timburr's trainer stared in disbelief as his Pokémon remained dazed and lying on the ground, and then began to cautiously eye Hilbert after he recalled his Snivy, and began to walk off.

"W-w-wait," the young boy stuttered, his courage compromised by that quick loss, "Aren't you going to take… take my Pokémon?"

Stealing Pokémon? During Team Plasma's public speech, spearheaded by none other than Ghetsis himself, back in Accumula Town, Hilbert did not recall any mention of Pokémon theft… Truth, ideals, Pokémon enslavement, trainer brutality, and a few other fancy terms vaguely came to mind, but definitely not theft. Just how had this kid come to know of Team Plasma's more sinister agenda?

Either way, as far as things had been taken, Hilbert had no heart to divest this youngster from his Pokémon. "I changed my mind," he answered as he stepped out of the building, "I have more important things to do."

The boy in the Plasma uniform was getting further away, vanishing into the sandy landscape, yet the defeated trainer quickly regained his composure and began to shout, "…Hey, what's that for? Are you sayin' my Pokémon's not worth stealing? You call yourself a Team Plasma goon?! You'd better come back here!"

The shuffling sounds from behind alerted the boy into noticing that his Timburr had recovered enough to get back on its feet. Picking up its wooden beam, the muscular Pokémon glared at its trainer while wearing an angry, most displeased expression, before it began to charge after him, swinging its weapon as wildly as it had during the fight with Hilbert's Snivy.

"…Please come back, Team Plasma guy!" the boy in the shorts thought to himself as he was being chased around the confines of Relic Castle by the unruly Timburr, "I don't want to keep this Pokémon anymore!"

%%%

"Well, you certainly know a thing or two when it comes to Pokémon battles… I can certainly respect that."

Grunter and Elesa both returned their respective Pokémon to their Poké Balls; their faces now placid, as though the exciting battle between Trainer and Gym Leader that unfolded in this neon playground had long since faded into a fond memory; like a bolt of lightning, the battle had began so suddenly and ended just the same, but what was seen in between was quite the sight to behold.

Elesa started the battle with Emolga, an Electric-type Pokémon that floated in the air with the cape-like web of skin beneath its arms. Using its Volt Switch attack, in conjunction with its own impressive agility, the Gym Leader's Pokémon was able to provide more than a fair challenge for the ex-Plasma grunt. It had taken the combined efforts of both Grunter's Patrat and Purrloin to successfully overcome Elesa's shocking strategy, bringing her down to her last resort: the Zebstrika she had used earlier to chase down Bianca's bellicose father.

The striped stallion's electric attacks were fierce, and Grunter was left with no choice but to pull out his newly-acquired trump card: a Sandile he had captured – based on advice given to him by a familiar benefactor – prior to meeting Elesa at her Gym. She was of course aware of the crocodile Pokémon's total immunity to electricity, yet she chose to continue the battle without a second thought.

Perhaps, Grunter reasoned, that may have been her way of apologizing for her earlier behavior.

After the Nimbasa Gym Leader asked the man to produce his Badge Case, she produced something shiny and golden-yellow from her pockets. "Here's the Bolt Badge," she announced tersely before handing the badge to Grunter, which he accepted gratefully.

One more badge, he thought to himself. One step closer.

Upon exiting the Nimbasa Gym, Grunter's luck plummeted; he was almost immediately greeted by yet another member of Team Plasma – though this was no ordinary Plasma Grunt, nor was it even one of the Sages.

"Hello, my friend. It's been a while, hasn't it?" The king of Team Plasma – known as N, a rather modest name for a king – spoke at a speed that made his words end and start almost seamlessly. His speech was not even hindered a little by the delicious frosty Casteliacone he was holding, and clearly enjoying.

"Oh, geez…" The ex-grunt flinched in shock at this completely unexpected surprise. Had his desertion really made that much of an impact on Team Plasma? Surely it was not necessary for this matter to be brought to the very leader of the entire organization. He was only a lowly grunt, after all, just another cog in the machinery.

But the humble king simply shook his green-haired head, and pointed, his finger leading to Nimbasa City's famed ferris wheel. "Come," he instructed. "We shall ride upon the ferris wheel and continue our conversation… in private." Though Grunter had no official obligation to do as N had asked, he saw no harm in obeying. For all the power and influence he possessed, he was quite the reasonable man, and the ex-grunt felt like N would understand if he were to explain himself.

Soon the two men were seated in one of the ferris wheel's carriages, and once the wheel began its motions, N spoke, "Have I ever told you what I like most about ferris wheels? The way such a mechanism is designed… Every component so meticulously calculated to ensure-"

"_Blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah…" _The previous Gym battle had exhausted Grunter, and N's hasty, multisyllabic monologue was effectively processed as gibberish that he did not care to comprehend at the moment. Even so, he sat through the long-winded speech, waiting for his opportunity to speak.

"-and ever after, I vowed not to touch another, so long as I lived." After the king of Team Plasma had finished talking, he stared out of the carriage window, observing the view. Grunter then took that chance to speak, breaking the silence. "Just let me ask… what do you need me for? I'm no more important than anyone else, right?"

Without turning his head back, N retorted, "On the contrary, Hilbert." The ex-grunt's eyes widened in realization as he heard that name, that dopey, dopey name – all along, and just like those other kids, this man had mistaken him for that boy from whom he took these clothes he bore. "For my dream to come true, to achieve what I desire most, I need someone special. And though you may have lost your Pokémon to Team Plasma, I still know deep down that you are that special person I seek… nothing can change that."

N's words, though meaningful, proved vague and abstract to Grunter, and he could only assume that the king of Team Plasma had taken to that Hilbert boy, and would not leave him (or at least, who N thought was him) alone now that they had been reunited. Was a little solitude every now and then so much to ask for?

Without a second thought, Grunter rose from his seat and forced the carriage door open, allowing a harsh wind to blow through as he, without so much as a single word, jumped out the door, falling through the sky, and crashing down – safely, more or less – into a thick bushy pile of foliage at ground level.  
The landing was a little rough, he had to admit, but he thought himself quite lucky that he had pulled it off without any injuries to speak of; a broken bone or concussion did no favors for a man trying to flee from an unwanted encounter.

Meanwhile, N simply stared at the open door in disbelief, and continued to do so long after the carriage had stopped moving.


	7. Cold Shoulder

**Sorry to keep you waiting. I had this chapter planned out a while beforehand, but it came up a bit short when I wrote it down, so some of the stuff I ended up improvising into the chapter.**

* * *

In the outskirts of Driftveil City, Cheren stood glazed-eyed as he was forced to listen to the disgruntled rant by the town's Gym Leader.

"I don't trust that Team Plasmy bunch none, let me tell ya. Them varmints is plotting somethin' mighty dastardly, I'd wager." He grumbled in annoyance. "Varmints, the lot of 'em…"

"Yeah," Cheren responded without much thought, wondering when the gruff Clay would cease his seemingly endless yammering. He simply refused to believe that this was the price to pay for meticulousness and punctuality.

"Now if'n y'all could spare the time, I need some selfless youngin to investigate that there Cold Storage area."

Fortunately for Cheren, Grunter had finally caught up, panting out of exhaustion from the long trek across the Driftveil Bridge. The glasses-clad boy pushed his companion in front of himself, declaring, "I'm sure my friend here would be willing to investigate it on his own."

"That'd be mighty big of ya, son," Clay answered to the ex-Plasma man, before turning back to Cheren. "And while he's off doin' that, y'all can help me out with countin' my rock collection… I reckon I was up to fiddy-hundred and seven, last I remember… or was it seven hundred and fiddy?"

"So which way to the Cold Storage?" Cheren interrupted.

%%%

"Oy, huddle around me already, you shmucks! I'm freezing my tuckus off here, I am!"

At the behest of Zinzolin, the Plasma sage in the violet robes, the group of nine Plasma grunts – or rather, eight grunts and one Hilbert – gathered closer to their superior, pressing themselves against his bony self in an attempt to insulate him against the cold of the icy locker.

Even as he was slightly warmed by the scant heat of the others in the bunch, Hilbert was shivering. The intense cold of this space was making him just a bit miserable, and the worst part of it was that an effective source of heat was at his very fingertips, yet he absolutely could not use it.

The young trainer did not know much about that small, flying Pokémon that he had caught at the Liberty Garden, other than that it was quite adorable, but apparently harbored power so strong that it had to be confined to a remote room within the island's tower. What that power was, Hilbert could not say for sure, but by way of a private training session with just himself and his Pokémon, he had found out that he had caught himself a Fire-type Pokémon… as indicated by the fierce flames it used to almost scorch Hilbert's Snivy.

It goes without saying, of course, that fire would prove most comforting at this particular moment.

As far as any of the Plasma members knew though, the Liberty Garden mission had ended in failure, and the rare Pokémon had eluded their capture. That did put the boy in quite the dilemma; was it better to secretly hold on to the Pokémon, keeping it safe, yet within reach? Or would releasing it be the answer? Most likely it would flee to whereabouts that not even Team Plasma could hope to locate, yet the spry little thing seemed very lonely when they had first met, entering the Poké Ball with no protest.

But dealing with matters pertaining to the Pokémon would have to wait until Hilbert was alone… He didn't even know what Team Plasma was planning to do in this freezing, freezing place.

"Hey, what are we even doing here, anyway?" asked one grunt who had his stomach pressed against Hilbert's shoulders.

"Mmmmph!" What the boy had tried to say was that he wanted to know the same thing, yet the words could not escape his lips, which had somehow been frozen together. That mishap was enough to make him cry, were it not for the fact that to do so would freeze his eyelids shut.

With time – much, much time – the blistering cold was almost beginning to become bearable, before the door of the container burst open, revealing two forms of about the same height.

"Hmph, so Team Plasma was hiding here all along." To Hilbert's great surprise, he recognized that sardonic, condescending drawl. "I thought even they'd know better than to hide in here, but I guess I was wrong."

"Oh, a comedian, huh?" Zinzolin retorted from behind his human barrier. "You've got some chutzpah, you little whippersnap!"

"Mmphm! Mmphm!" Hilbert desperately tried to call out to incite Cheren's attention, but his frozen lips rendered his words inaudible.

"Taunting me? What a bother." Cheren chose his reaction to the situation carefully: a brazen display of his middle finger towards Hilbert and the other grunts, representing his resentment and defiance towards the ruffians. After having indulged himself with that gesture, he turned to his partner. "Now how about helping me to take care of them?" he asked.

The person standing next to his spectacled friend advanced, and Hilbert couldn't believe his eyes when he saw who it was.

Those sturdy, stylish shoes, that amazing jacket, and that hat… That glorious, magnificent red, white and black hat…  
Those clothes were just like the ones he was wearing before-

"Mmmph!" Hilbert struggled against the others clustered around him; after all this time, he had finally found that guy who had switched places with him, and now that they were once again brought together – wait, why didn't Cheren realize this mix-up? Hilbert needed to know before they tried to get away, but the grunt in his clothes had already turned back to flee.

"You want to get Clay to handle this?" Cheren shrugged, following after the man in the cap. "Whatever."

Hilbert wasn't willing to let this opportunity escape his grasp, and he did something he thought he would never have to do…  
Closing his eyes and thinking unrelated thoughts, he gave Zinzolin a smooch on his wrinkly cheek, thawing the ice that welded his lips shut. The grunts around him gave varied reactions to the boy's affectionate action, and in the confusion of it all, Hilbert broke from the huddle and left the container to pursue Cheren and the grunt.

After the initial shock of being completely nonplussed by that kiss from a grunt, Zinzolin uttered, "Oy vey…"

%%%

"Cheren, waaaait!"

Cheren had almost reached the door of the warehouse, but Hilbert was not so ready to let his friend escape; his will helped him to forget he was running along a floor of thick, slippery ice. Reckless as he was in his motions, Hilbert at least managed to avoid slipping on the frictionless surface and landing face-first on the cold, hard ground.

At the sound of his name being called, Cheren turned to see his brown-haired friend, shivering and clad in a Team Plasma uniform. He grunted an uninterested "Hmph…" as though Hilbert was just playing some immature prank of some sort. Narrowing his glasses-clad eyes, he continued, "What do you want?"

The boy answered with desperation in his voice, "It's me, Hilbert! Don't you recognize me? That guy you were with… that wasn't me, that was-" Before he could finish, Hilbert gasped at an odd sensation of warmth that seemed to be coming from behind. Swiveling his head, he saw at his boot-clad feet a squat, orange Pokémon with stubby yet thick fists and a snout that poured steam like a kettle. If he had not been quite confused by what was happening, he could have more quickly recalled its similarities to Cheren's Tepig, the very first Pokémon obtained by the raven-haired boy.

"I can see that it's you." Cheren sighed, while coming in closer to Hilbert and the pig Pokémon. "I can't believe you would betray me, Hilbert. Were you so tired of Bianca and I that you decided to go and use Substitute, only with another person instead of a plush toy?" Visibly irritated, Cheren tapped his feet on the icy floor. "And as if that wasn't bad enough, you went and joined Team Plasma… and you didn't invite me! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Hilbert couldn't bear to see his friend so angry with him. "But-"

"That's enough out of you! Now, Pignite."

The orange Pokémon nodded, and blew a thin stream of fire from its snout, melting the ice at Hilbert's feet. It didn't take long for the boy to be ankle-deep in frosty water, which quickly hardened back into its solid state once Pignite had ceased its fire.

"I hope this teaches you a lesson," Cheren remarked. "_Never do things that annoy people_."

With those harsh yet profound words, he and Pignite left Hilbert to cry frozen tears as he fidgeted in vain against the frozen fetters that locked him in place. With numbness already beginning to nip at the tips of his toes, Hilbert didn't have much of a choice now. He reached in his pockets to pull out the Poké Ball he needed most.

"Viiih!" The small, wing-tailed Pokémon didn't seem to mind the bitter cold, as it floated about, orbiting like a satellite around Hilbert and observing his woeful state. Seeing its trainer partly trapped in the ice, the Pokémon took pity and set itself upon the cold ground, and began to bloom with an intense, but controlled flame; it was hot enough to melt and then evaporate a goodly amount of the ice bed, yet the blaze did not even singe Hilbert, much less cook him to a crisp; the power a legendary Pokémon could exercise was indeed well beyond his comprehension.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Kissy Face!" A voice came from behind Hilbert, but that greeting didn't seem to come from Zinzolin; as far as Hilbert could tell, it was a woman's voice.

The boy in the Plasma uniform remained silent as he faced the speaker, one of the grunts who had accompanied him to the Cold Storage. With an ear-to-ear grin, she pulled a tube of lipstick from her pockets, red as a Boldore's gems, liberally applying the make-up to her lips.

"I saw you smoochin' with ol' Mister Zinzolin back there, and I gotta say you did a pretty damn fine job at it. You must have a stunning pair of lips on you, hehehe." The flirtatious grunt chuckled to herself; her entrancing behavior seemed to keep Hilbert still, as though he were still bound by the frozen bed of ice. "But if you ask me, you're wasting those bad boys on kissing old men. How about you put them to use on a pretty little thing like me, baby?"

Subtly as he could, Hilbert backed away from the grunt as she advanced, puckering her lips; it didn't look like hers were frozen together, so kissing her seemed quite unnecessary… he wasn't particularly interested in her anyway.

So concerned with avoiding her was the boy that he had almost forgotten entirely about the Pokémon he had summoned, who had decided to surprise him by floating to place itself between Hilbert and the grunt, squealing "Vih viiih!" as if to introduce itself.

"Hmm?" The Plasma grunt stopped in her tracks as Hilbert's Pokémon intervened. "Well, well, what do we have here?" After realizing just what she was looking at she turned to Hilbert, mischievously sneering.

"I… I dunno." Even as he had long since taken the Pokémon into his care, Hilbert still had no idea what it was called.

"So you found Victini in that Liberty place all this time and you didn't fess up…" The woman chuckled. "Everyone thought the mission was a total bust."

"Victini?" Hilbert asked, prompting the small legendary Pokémon to excitedly spin in place at hearing its name spoken.

"That's right, pretty-boy," she continued. "We have some pretty big plans for that little guy, and hoarding him like that is pretty selfish of you… how naughty, tee hee." The grunt attempted to reach her gloved arm out to pat Victini, but in a panic it flied away, latching on to Hilbert's shoulder from behind. Sensing the tension of the situation, the grunt had come to a realization. "You know, you'd probably get in a whole lot of trouble for something like this… What if I ratted you out, heh heh?"

Hilbert took a step back, glaring at the smug woman. "No! I-I won't let you!"

"Then I suppose the only way to keep me quiet… is to seal my lips, if you know what I mean."

In spite of the Cold Storage's temperature, Hilbert began to sweat. Presented with a painful choice, he knew the one he had to make.


End file.
